The Cabbie and the Cop - 2

After putting the cab in park and dousing the lights Simeon turned to his passenger. “Any idea who was following us?”

“Yes. Someone who’d like very much to know where I’m going. Sorry, I probably should have warned you.”

“Yeah you should have. What if I hadn’t spotted them?”

“The address I gave you is a blind. I’d have lost them there. By the way, you weren’t half bad at getting them off our tail. Had practice?”

“Not really. Just instinct I guess.” Simeon kept an eye on the mirrors, smiling slightly when the car sailed past, apparently without anyone in it bothering to check the alley. “So now where to?”

The passenger eyed him for a moment. “I could have you drop me where I said.”

“But you won’t. It’s pretty nasty out there so why get soaked when I can take you where you need to go.”

The man smiled slightly. “My thoughts exactly. You know the Westside well?”  

Simeon waggled his hand. “Well enough to get there and probably find wherever it is you’re heading.”

“Know a spot called Frankie’s?”

“Yep. And that neighborhood makes where we were originally heading look like the suburbs. You’ll stand out like a sore thumb there, umm…”

“Vergil,” the man replied. “And by the time you drop me off I won’t look like I just came from a business meeting.”

“Virgil like the poet?”

“Nope, Vergil, with an ‘e’. Believe me I’m not a poet.”

As he spoke, Vergil took off his suit jacket, folding it neatly before setting it on the seat beside him. Next he took off his tie and unbuttoned his shirt, which had Simeon cocking an eyebrow. It turned out the shirt covered a well-worn and sweat-stained T-shirt. When Vergil began unzipping his slacks Simeon turned away, starting the cab.

Vergil chuckled. “Don’t worry; I’ve got jeans on under these. I’m not a flasher.”

“And I bet they match the shirt.”

“They’re as old and ratty, yes.” Once the slacks were off they joined the rest of the neatly folded cloths on the seat. Vergil picked up the bag, snapping it open, and took out a worn jean jacket which he put on.

By then they were on the highway, heading west. Simeon stayed alert for any sign of the car that had been tailing them, or anyone else who appeared too interested in their destination. Vergil on the other hand seemed relaxed as he put the clothes he’d been wearing, including his dress shoes after changing them for an older pair, into the bag. He closed it then leaned forward, his arms resting on the back of the passenger seat.

“When we get to Frankie’s drive into the alley. I’ll get out there.”

“Sure, no problem. I’d ask what’s going on but I doubt I want to know, even if you were willing to tell me.”

“Which I’m not,” Vergil replied with a smile. “The less you know the better… for me.”

“Can I at least ask if I’m aiding and abetting?”

Vergil laughed. “If you were I’d probably have to kill you, and I’d rather not do that.”

“I think I’d rather pass on that myself.”

The Cabbie and the Cop - 1

Another fare, another dollar. I gotta find a new job Simeon thought as he pulled his cab back into traffic.

  

It was raining, the night lights reflecting off the wet pavement. Most the city folk who were awake were happily ensconced in their warm houses, or the local bars. The rest were wondering what they’d done to deserve yet another night of lousy weather. Or at least so he supposed. He knew he was, even though rain meant more business.

He cruised down the avenue towards the nearest hotel, keeping an eye open for anyone who might need him while ignoring the dispatcher. It was after all fifty-fifty that a potential fare who’d called in would either cancel, or grab another cab going by before he could get to the location.

As he passed an upscale restaurant he saw a slender, blond-haired man standing under the awning. When the man frantically waved his hand, Simeon pulled over to the curb and the man jumped in, slamming the door behind him then dropping the well-worn black bag he was carrying onto the floor.

Simeon shook his head, asking, “Where to?” When his passenger gave him an address in the seedier part of the city Simeon wondered why a well-dressed man would want to go there. Not that it’s any of my business he figured as he took off.

“Mind switching stations, umm…" the man had leaned forward to look at Simeon’s hack license, "Simeon?”

“Depends what you want me to switch to. I don’t like the kid’s crap so you have your choice of NPR, jazz, classical… Well I guess not classical since it’s what’s on.”

“Country?”

The man must have seen Simeon shudder before he switched stations because he chuckled. “Come on, some of it’s not that bad.”

“If you say so.” Simeon slowed at a stop sign before turning left and for a few minutes the only sound in the cab was the music. Then he frowned, certain he’d seen the same car behind them a couple of blocks back when he’d checked the side view mirror before changing lanes. Not that it was unusual, but something still bothered him. It took him a moment to figure it out. If he was right, the car had been parked across the street from the restaurant when the man had flagged him down.

Glancing in the rearview mirror he saw his passenger nod, his fingers to one ear under his shaggy hair. A second later the man said something in reply to what Simeon could only figure was a phone call, his words so low they were indistinguishable over the sound of the music.

Deciding to err on the side of caution, Simeon took the next right, and then two blocks later a left. He continued on until he saw a light up ahead about to change, stepped on the gas, and flew through it just as it turned red. Slowing down he saw the car, which had indeed been following them, slam to a stop to avoid hitting another car going through the intersection. Simeon took advantage of that to swing a left at the next corner and from there made another turn into an alley.

I could a tale unfold - 28

“You can talk,” Ross said in shock, stating the obvious.

“I“—Otis went quiet, staring down at the journal. “I think“—he tapped the page in Charles's journal that had caught his eye even as they had been figuring out who murdered him.

My father dragged me away from the theater almost immediately after the final curtain had descended. He told me in no uncertain terms that I was coming with him to the opening night party and he would brook no argument. Given no choice, I went with him, leaving behind a devastated and wan-looking Otis. That was the last I ever saw of the one man that I would ever truly love.

He did not, quite obviously, come to the party. Of the few people who actually noticed that he was not there, only one seemed concerned. She told me that she had seen him going into his dressing room and he looked quite ill. “Nerves,” she said in explanation. My feeling was that he was in shock because I had deserted him in favor of my father. I had tried to tell him all that evening, before the curtain rose and then during the intermissions, but always there was someone with him.

Early the next morning I went looking for him, even daring to go to his family home. The maid who opened the door told me to wait while she inquired if he was available for a visitor. She returned shortly to tell me that he had not returned home last evening. I asked if this was normal, knowing in fact that it was because often he spent the whole night with me. I was hoping, I suppose, that she would tell me that he would spend nights out with friends and then I could ask for their names. However she just nodded before closing the door, leaving me standing on the porch like some transient beggar looking for a handout.

For the next month, I spent as much time as I possibly could searching for him. It was to no avail. He had vanished as if he had never existed. If his family was also looking for him, I saw no sign of that.

In the end, I gave up. I knew I would never find him, but every night I prayed that he would return. Hope died, eventually, but not my love for him. That will always be with me until the day I die. And beyond.

“I think,” Otis said, his voice scratchy from disuse. “I think I had to know who slew me. But more, I had to know that Charles's love for me never died. Now, my dear friends,” he smiled at Ross and Kirk, “I believe I can finally move on and, as Hamlet says, ‘Shuffle off this mortal coil’.” He threw back his head, laughing joyfully, and vanished.

“The rest is silence,” Kirk said softly. “Flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.”

“One can only hope that somewhere out there,” Ross waved his hand to encompass the world and beyond, “the two of them are reunited.”

Kirk smiled, wrapping his arm around Ross’ shoulders. “I’m sure they are, if there is any justice at all. They deserve that much.”

The End

I could a tale unfold - 27

Ross continued reading the journal.

Life was just as I could have hoped, despite the still unwanted attention that the actor playing Hamlet was paying my Otis. Otis told me, whenever I asked, that he managed to avoid being alone with him. It was apparent however that he was upset with the entire situation, as he did his best to avoid talking about it.

Then, the evening before opening night, after a long and stressful day of full rehearsals, my father came by the theater. He told me in no uncertain terms that I was to come to supper with him. I had no reason to refuse. I knew even pleading exhaustion would carry no weight with him. That supper was an exercise in tense conversation, without even the relief of good liquor or wine as father was a teetotaler. Finally, as the evening drew to a close, he came to the point of why he had me there. He insisted, in fact he ordered me to cease my apparent friendship with ‘that pervert, Otis’.

I remember the shock that rolled through me as I sputtered out that he must be mistaken. That Otis was nothing of the sort. He replied that he had in on the unimpeachable word of a man that he trusted that Otis was a sodomite. He then told me that ‘that boy’ would perform on opening night, only because there was no one to replace him on such short notice, and then he would be gone.

I was devastated, although I knew that there was nothing I could say to him that would change his mind. So I listened like the dutiful son, and then told him I needed to go back to my apartment and get some rest. He quickly debased me of that idea, telling me that I would be going home with him. I knew instantly that he was afraid I would somehow warn Otis, and he was correct. If I could have, I would have.

“Well now,” Ross said slowly when he finished that section.

“Are you thinking what I am, that the ‘unimpeachable’ source was the assistant director, and that there is at least a slim possibility that they colluded to kill Otis?”

Ross looked at Kirk and nodded.

Otis tapped Ross’ arm to get his attention before writing. “That is why his father took him away so fast that next night?”

“It would certainly make sense. It would have kept you from going to Charles’s dressing room for any reason.”

“And then, one would suspect, he told Charles that he had given you your notice and you had vanished like the bad coin, pervert that you were,” Kirk added.

“I was not!” Otis said emphatically.

Everyone froze when he spoke.

I could a tale unfold - 26

Otis reached for the pad of paper again, wiping a tear from his eye. “I will love him forever,” he wrote. “Hope he loved me until he died. Hope he found someone else to love too. Being alone“—he paused, his face a picture of sadness—“is so lonely.”

“We’ll find out soon enough, I suspect,” Ross replied once he’d read Otis’ words.

The three men went back to Charles’ journal, working through the young man’s rapturous ravings about his affair with Otis. In one section he told about how Otis convinced him it would be safe for him to come to work at the theater.

He is a wonderful, foolish boy, and I love him for that. We came up with a plan. I was to tell my father, and the man who was the director of the plays, that I had seen an amazing young actor who was available if they wanted him. Our plot worked, although I had to talk long and hard to convince them that he was worth their hiring. I chuckle now when I remember how he showed up two days ago. If I had not known it was him, well, I might not have known he was my Otis.

~~~~~

The director is ecstatic, as am I. I believed Otis when he said he was a fine actor. I did not realize quite how wonderful he was. He has been cast a Laertes in ‘Hamlet’, which while not a major role, is one of importance. My only qualm is that I know something about the actor who will be Hamlet. He was also a man of our persuasion, although he did not know that I was. Otis however, while diligent, was young and could not seem to hide his occasional loving glances at me as much as I warned him to be careful. He would agree, and then would come down to the costume room on the slightest pretext to be with me. I truly feared for him, especially when that actor seemed to become quite too insistent in helping Otis with his lines, wanting to ‘tutor’ him as he put it.

However, we managed to keep our affair, and our love, from anyone else. If we had not my father would have dismissed Otis without hesitation.

“Obviously, he had no idea what was happening with you and that actor,” Kirk said, tapping the last line.

“No,” Otis wrote. “I told you that I told no one.” He sighed mournfully. “If I had,” he scribbled.

Ross gave him a fast hug, somehow at this point in time not the least bit surprised that he could. “If you had you might still be alive, but the two of you would still have been separated.”

Kirk chuckled wryly. “Given the options, I think I would have opted for separation rather than death. But then there was no reason for you to think someone might want to kill you. Right, Otis?”

Otis nodded. “No reason,” he wrote in confirmation.

“Which leaves us with the question of who would have,” Ross pointed out. “So far, it might have been the actor if for some reason he thought you might finally tell someone what he was doing.”

“Or that assistant director who was giving you grief,” Kirk added. “If he was homophobic he might have wanted to get rid of you, or“—Kirk’s eyes lit up—“just the opposite. He was jealous because the actor was paying you too much attention, Otis.”

“Now that’s something we hadn’t though about. Would that be possible, Otis?”

After a brief moment, Otis shrugged. “Possible,” he mouthed.

“Then we had Charles’s father in the mix, if somehow he found out about you and Charles. He’d sure want you gone for good. Even more so if he also knew who you really were.”